


Crashing Waves

by Starinlight



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop, Z.Tao (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, OT12 - Freeform, Sad, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6028297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starinlight/pseuds/Starinlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Valentine's Day, Joonmyun drowns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crashing Waves

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda forgot to post this here on Valentine's Day... Well, better later than never~  
> Warning for possible triggers. Please, be careful~

Joonmyun is tired.

After so long, no schedule can make him feel like this; a bone-deep exhaustion which carves itself on his entire being, growing like a parasite feeding off of his spirit and muscles, eating away his will to try harder, do better. With each dawn and sunset, more of himself is lost, pieces of personality and dreams shattering so there’s nothing left but the bright, tireless façade of Suho the guardian; unbent, unbroken, the spitting image of perfection with too good speeches, too straight white teethes and discipline, an example of politeness. No, no schedule is able to do that.

Joonmyun is miserable.

Each smile is a punishment, a painful stretch of his lips; he feels as if his face is ready to burst against the strange pull of muscles. Suho needs to do aegyo, be cheesy and tacky in an awkward way that make both members and fans cringe, so he does, hurting himself – no, not himself, Joonmyun – to the point in which his hands tremble, itching to just rip off his fake, so, so fake smiles and attitudes, hoping to reveal the little left of his true self.

Joonmyun is hungry.

He hates food; its’ foul flavor burns his taste buds, and he wants – needs – to throw up. His fingers don’t work anymore, so he shoves a toothbrush deep inside his throat, forcing his gag instincts to work and bring back all of what he forcibly swallowed, reliving his body – small, weak, _ugly_ body – of the dirty, horrible food. It doesn’t work every time, so what actually settles down, he eradicates by working out, eyes blurring in a feeble attempt to keep upright. Tea makes him blotched, energetics hurt his stomach. Water and cream-crackers are his best friends.

Joonmyun is numb.

It gets harder, this thing of showing feelings. He can’t force himself to feel happy onstage, illuminated by bright lights – he never was, stuck on the back – and surrounded by fans – they’re not there for him – and his band members, the people he loves the most – … loved? He’s not sure anymore. Doesn’t feel annoyed when they borrow his things without asking or exasperated when he has to pay the bill alone for the nth time, not receiving a  mere ‘thanks’ in exchange. Can’t feel pain when his blunt nails bite into the skin of his thighs – flabby, too pale, _fat_ thighs – until they bleed, tiny half-moons scarring it, or the rawness of his throat after dry-heaving for ten minutes straight.

No, Joonmyun doesn’t feel anything past the bone-deep tiredness of his muscles and the cracking of his mask; the constant ache of an empty stomach and the uncontrollable, growing melancholy.

Joonmyun is tired.

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

_He knows there’s something wrong when one of EXO’s managers calls him, saying that SM’s CEO, Lee Soo Man is requesting his presence; with a sense of dread on the pit of his stomach, he obediently enters the van sent to pick him up, excusing himself to the others quickly. They don’t really pay any attention, talking with each other and complaining about a long day of interminable schedules. He sighs, accustomed with the lack of response; it’s not the first time they ignore him, won’t be the last._

_The ride is silent as he watches the streets passing by the darkened car’s glass, the chic and cold Gangnam gazing back at him, indifferent to his inner turmoil. It’s late, and Joonmyun has no idea why he was called at such time, when tomorrow morning he would be going to the building anyway, still, deep inside, something tells him that it’s about him._

_He’s been under SM’s wings – black, oppressive and sharp, like a crow’s – for more than ten years, counting his seven – long, suffering, tasting like blood and salt – as a trainee and three as EXO’s leader, and he can see a pattern on Lee Soo Man’s apparently inconstant self. The man is dangerous and is well aware of the fear the mention of his name causes, but is also conscientious of the way he treats his high-profit idols, careful to not commit more mistakes than he has in the past; Yif– He’s a natural leader._

_Leader… Joonmyun, after so long, continues to not understand the decision; he’s not leader material. He’s not good at dancing like Jongin, Yixing or Minseok, he can’t sing like Jongdae, Kyungsoo or Baekhyun, can’t be handsome and pretty and sassy like Sehun, can’t compose like Chanyeol, and doesn’t have the variety skills like most of them do, awkwardly filling his space – that ¾ will most likely be edited out before the show airs – with bad jokes and weird expressions. He tries too hard to guarantee a bit of space, rehearsing his lines until they’ve become engraved on his mind and robotic on his voice. He’s such a failure it’s shameful, and some days, when he misses home, he locks himself on the bathroom, fighting the urge to call; he won’t, not to hear his mother’s hesitant voice, asking if he’s okay and eating right, not when she can hear the lies rolling non-stop from mouth, tongue-tied and fast. Not to hear his father’s worried sighs, because it will seem like he’s ungrateful, pursuing an illusion his younger self so selfishly imposed on them. Joonmyun feels worn-out all day, no amount of sleep or concealer hiding the tight smiles and overly – fake – exaggerated reactions to simple things._

_His – never truly his – EXO-Ls notice, of course, because if there’s someone capable of noticing anything about his – not his – band, are EXO’s fans. They mostly scoff at him, preferring to coo and scream and be so completely in love with anyone but him. They love Kyungsoo’s squishy but satanic personality, Sehun’s sassiness, Chanyeol and Baekhyun and Jongdae’s naturally bright and loud persons, Jongin’s quiet but fierce passion, Xiumin’s manly cuteness and Yixing’s innocence and naivety. Joonmyun is Suho. Suho is EXO’s rich, rehearsed leader._

_Lee Soo Man’s office may be the scariest place in the whole world for those who have dreams; he breaks those there, telling hard-working trainees that they are not enough, that they can go pack their things and leave, because he won’t spend more of his precious money with talentless people. Joonmyun lived seven years with that fear whispering on his ears, each expectation he held close to his heart breaking year by year as the CEO told him he still wasn’t enough, that he still wouldn’t be able to debut, and even now, with EXO as one of the most popular boy-bands out there, he feels the cold embrace of fear holding onto him, shocking the air out of his lugs._

_“Joonmyun-ah” Lee Soo Man’s voice is as deceptive as his face, calm like the sky before a storm “Thank you for coming at such an ungrateful hour”_

_Joonmyun bows as low as he can, sitting stiffly on the chair his boss shows him. He remains silent, waiting._

_Behind his specs, Soo Man’s eyes are dark, cold and analytical. He puts his elbows on the large desk, intertwining his fingers together. A pose the younger is familiar with._

_“EXO’s popularity charts are ready” he says, not explaining further._

_There’s no need. Joonmyun is aware of what this means, for him and his future. See, Lee Soo Man apparently thinks of himself as a merciful person, a magician with infinite powers. He can bring life to someone’s wildest imagination… at a price. Years ago, when he said to an younger Joonmyun about his chance to debut, he was clear in some points. First, Joonmyun had to get better – his mediocre singing and dancing abilities barely fit to his ideal of a boy-band – in everything on a short period of time. Second, Joonmyun had to assume another personality – more mature, objective and leader-like – to receive the stage name ‘Suho’. And third, he had to win the public’s sympathy. If failed, Joonmyun contract was to be… – broken, ripped to pieces, burned – … revised._

_He tried. Tries still, but…_

_“You’re in the last position_ again, _Joonmyun-ah”_

_His head hangs low “I’m sorry, Sajang-nim”_

_“I guess it’s no use” a sigh, frustrated “Took you seven years to archive the minimal needed… Joonmyun-ah, you are conscious that you were chosen as EXO’s leader to fill a role thanks to you being so hard-working, but that, otherwise, SM would have kicked you out? We don’t work with luck here; however, I particularly think just about how lucky you are for EXO’s success”_

_For the next twenty minutes, Joonmyun quietly listens to Lee Soo Man’s ranting, carefully writing down all of his failures as a leader and as a performer._

_“2016 is your individual contract revision… And we’re considering making EXO an eight member boy-band”_

_Something inside Joonmyun – looks a lot like his heart, fragile like crystal and tired of way too many hits – falls and shatters. He absently nods as the CEO dispenses him, pale complexion ashen and brown eyes muddy, so empty he could have been mistaken as a corpse, moving based on pure instinct. Those are slower, the tiredness he feels inside almost bending him in half, weighting his shoulder with a load too great to be carried. The force he uses to get up after his last bow is excruciating and his bones crack audibly._

_He arrives home – is it home? It doesn’t smell like lavender and the faint seasoning his mother always uses to make dinner, or has his father’s jacket hanging on the couch… Home? – and is greeted by darkness and silence. It’s past midnight, and the others are all in bed, dead to the world. Joonmyun doesn’t want to risk waking them up, so he blindly takes off his shoes and walks towards the room he shares with the maknae. Sehun’s lanky figure is sprawled on the bed, and Joonmyun covers him, slightly sadder than previously for not being able to see Sehun’s peaceful face, unguarded, bare of the typical boredom._

_He doesn’t sleep, despite being so drained his skin burns like it’s stretched too tightly. He remembers his conversation with Lee Soo Man and tears well up on his eyes._

_Suho doesn’t cry._

_(Joonmyun weeps)_

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

It’s getting more difficult to get up every day. In the beginning, he would be one of the firsts to wake up, to guarantee everyone would get ready in time and eat breakfast properly before another day of practices and more practices. Nowadays, Sehun’s annoyed voice and forceful shakes are what can bring him back to the land of living, feeling even more tired than when he laid down. Joonmyun doesn’t feel like doing what he must do, and he usually skips whatever Kyungsoo makes for breakfast. No one seems to notice it, the leader – he sneers at himself for the word’s use – easily stuffing his body with liters of water and at least a dozens of expensive vitamin and protein pills to compensate without a glance from another member.

Joonmyun also gets scolded a lot by Jongin – he’s afraid of the dancer, who more often than not, looks irritated next to him – since he can’t get the choreography as fast as the others or on point like them; he sits far away from them on breaks, so they can’t see how his knees knock together in exhaustion and his arms are filled with goosebumps, his body heating up and cooling down uncontrollably, peaks of heat leaving Joonmyun feverish and sudden chilliness racking his entire self and reaching his bones. He doesn’t go for lunch with them, saying he’ll practice more.

On the middle of the dance floor, with limbs closely wrapped around each other, Joonmyun lets his mind wander, going to places he normally wouldn’t allow.

Today he misses Zitao the most; the Chinese maknae was very clingy and affectionate with him, and Joonmyun always appreciated the effort the younger often had to put into learning, whispering his questions on his ears and looking eagerly with feline eyes as he explained, not bothering to hide his affection to the public, embracing Joonmyun, holding his hand and laying his head on the junction between the older’s shoulder and neck. Zitao was his baby, and indeed called him ‘Mama’ on the dorms, when his longing for home became overwhelming; he let Joonmyun rest on his lap when he felt tired – not like recently, but already a feeling of uselessness –, running thin fingers on his hair.

He’s gone too, like Luhan and…

No. Joonmyun won’t think about him, won’t force himself into more pain by remembering the other leader, the dorky giant who pretended to be cool and had the softest, more caring hands in the world and…

Too late.

His patched, frail heart is being squeezed, mercilessly crushed by these same hands, so big next to his own, smaller frame; his breathing accelerates, eyes widening as air doesn’t enter properly, whole body wiry as cramps blooms everywhere, tears falling as he _can’t breathe, can’t think, can’tseecan’tbreathecan’tdoanythingcan’tcan’tcan’t!_

Writhing, his joints crack and crack like pieces of rusty metal, unnatural angles bending limbs as he tries to breathe, agony washing away all his knowledge of how to suppress crises like this one, nothing permeating his mind but memories; _slightly too large fingers carefully embracing his waist, full lips tracing the dips of his torso and abdomen, natural rough voice rougher with arousal_ and _pretty girls barely sparing him a look, a child holding a cute toy for him to give to Chanyeol, a shy teenager who bursts into tears the moment she sees him, saying that she’s sorry he’s not loved like he deserves._

_Lee Soo Man’s voice telling him he’s not enough and never will be, his contract being thrown violently on a large wooden desk, his mother’s soft voice asking if he’s okay, his father saying that if he wants out, he’s out._

_Sehun’s cold hands cupping his face, pressing a soju flavored kiss on his mouth, bored eyes refusing to look at him the next day._

Bile stains the pristine linoleum floor, acid burning through his throat as it works to both breathe and retch, gagging in the process, coughs shaking him; his hands get dirty with the mess he made, panic mixing with agony and the sensation of spilling his lungs out. What he’s going to do if the others come back?! How long he’s been lying on the floor, drowning in his thoughts?

Colors spin on his vision, so pretty and ethereal. An ache sets on the back of his head, and the increasing pain on it snaps him back to conscience, air suddenly invading his system, almost choking Joonmyun.

“Stupid, useless shit” he mutters to himself, trying to get up; at first he fails, hands slipping and messing things up even more, but thankfully his clothes are unscathed – he doesn’t remember grabbing a spare one – and on his third attempt – his knees having given up at the second – he succeeds, running to the bathroom by the end of the corridor, luckily empty. He washes his hands quickly, frowning at the stench. There are some towels on the cabinet beneath the sink, and Joonmyun picks some, as well as soap, to clean his mess. Scrubbing the floor proves to be a challenge he narrowly overcomes.

The members of EXO – he used to call them ‘my boys’ on his head; he stopped when his clinginess only seemed to annoy them, even during the fan service , arrive briefly after he’s over with the cleaning, and Jongin scrutinizes him, lazy gaze judging his appearance to see if he indeed trained more instead of lazing around. Joonmyun is sweaty, pale as a ghost and panting, so the second youngest appears to believe him.

Chanyeol sits by his side, complaining about how they had to split the expensive bill and how Suho – Joonmyun flinches, because that’s _not_ his name – should have been there to pay for his share. The tiny light of hope that for one instant grew on Joonmyun’s heart – had they missed him? _Him? –_ withers as he manages a big smile, lightly pushing the rapper, murmuring about how much of a gold digger he is. Chanyeol’s loud laugh echoes in the space, and he stands to go towards Jongdae.

The smile on Joonmyun’s lips tastes like bile.

 

 

*****

 

 

_As idols, they have to be careful when dealing with relationships. On SM specifically, those are difficult to happen and when they do, Lee Soo Man’s hawk eyes are fixed on it, analyzing the best form to use it on his benefit; if he doesn’t see how to take advantage, this relationship is condemned to the shadows and on worst cases, to the end._

_So, it’s easier to look for comfort within their ranks. It’s no secret among them that Yunho and Changmin seek comfort with each other; Heechul offers himself to a wide range of Super Junior members and that SNSD has a wild history of seducing staff members. Together with these platonic, carnal relationships, there are the serious too, like Sungmin and Saeun, Shindong and Shinae and Sulli and Choiza, who are all lucky enough to be accepted by Lee Soo Man – he’s not counting Eunhyuk and Donghae, Jonghyun and Key, Minseok and Luhan, Amber and Henry, because they’ll never come to light._

_Joonmyun and Yifan almost naturally find the answer to physical necessities on the other; both leaders, both carrying too many responsibilities on their shoulders. The fault for this one is on Joonmyun’s – no only this one, all previous and subsequent mistakes too – for wanting to start something with M’s leader, looking out for him and proposing a deal that would satisfy both. Fuck when stressed, cuddle when sad, and make love when the weight of leading EXO overflows. It works._

_Yifan is gentle, maybe because Joonmyun is the first man he ever lays with, maybe because Joonmyun is so much smaller than him; he goes with the flow, letting the younger set the pace. Initially Joonmyun is embarrassed of how much he searches Yifan’s embrace compared to the other way around, but just as gently as he touches EXO’s leader, Yifan soothes his doubts. They are quiet while at ‘it’ – Yifan is not one for noise, and despite Joonmyun being, he covers his mouth with his hands or pillows – and on the aftermath, they talk, their whispers the only sound on the entire dorm. When M leaves for promotions in China, Joonmyun tries to cope with the weird tightening on his chest and the urge to cry, smiling twice as big and making jokes twice as horrible._

_They’ve been like this for almost one year when Joonmyun realizes that all these feelings he has – the fluttering on his insides, the overpowering joy, the certainty he can conquer the world – next to Yifan is because he’s in love with the Chinese man. He’s not planning to confess, their arrangement one with no space for feelings deeper than relief and lust. Joonmyun is satisfied with what he can have, and buries his chaotic sentiments on the darkest corner of his heart, locking them away so he won’t get hurt._

_Then Yifan leaves and he’s lost. The padlock bursts open and so does the love he nourishes for Yifan. He cries and cries, hoping the older leader will hear and go to the rescue – like so many times – fitting him inside his long arms, but it never happens. He has to be strong for EXO and EXO-L and the tour they are about to start, so he stands tall and unbroken, consoling an inconsolable Zitao and encouraging the others to move on, ignoring his own heartbreak. Joonmyun patches his heart well, and to anyone, it would look fixed, perfect. No one would see the thin gashes or the tiny missing pieces. Not that anyone cares to check, since he’s Suho, guardian, strong and unchangeable._

_When Luhan goes too, missing pieces turn into holes, and no amount of glue he uses is enough to fix them, so he hides behind a false understanding façade, a red sheet disguising the imperfect work. Minseok is his priority right now, having a terrible break up to deal with, like Sehun who admired Luhan more than his others hyungs and also a Zitao who can’t, in his young age, let go of the two like this, with no time to mourn like he needs. Joonmyun is dying, seeing his boys slowly losing their original, bright glow, powerless against the grumbling dreams, their promise to stay together against all odds already ruined._

_Management punishes them – they blame Joonmyun incompetence and irresponsibility to deal with his members, and assure him of such blame –, ignoring Zitao when he gets injured, pushing them without a break, pushing, pushing, pushing and Joonmyun can’t stop this from happening – these days his boys don’t spare him a glance, accusing him of not having abilities to mediate between them and the company – no matter how much he pleads to their managers, to Lee Soo Man himself. Their schedules push harder, tougher. He throws up twice a week, after binging dinner._

_He knows Zitao will not endure this life, and when M’s maknae comes to him to talk, he listens to his pleading to leave, and white noise mingling with the younger’s voice, distorting it into guttural sobs. He talks to Zitao’s father – the boy translating when needed – and they make arrangements. The sheet he wears to hide his damaged heart rips to shreds and he begs, begs for Zitao not to leave, because he needs him, like he needs Luhan and Yifan. Zitao holds him, crying and apologizing, and the next day, he’s gone, leaving Joonmyun behind to a smaller EXO and anger, resentful friends. Sehun locks himself in their room – Joonmyun sleeps on the couch – and Yixing, ever innocent and pure, cries his sorrows on his shoulder, fighting to stay strong._

_Twice a week turns into five day a week and finally, every day._

_Joonmyun doesn’t sleep for days straight; when he does, the others have to physically manhandle him out of bed. He’s always tired._

_He stops going out with them._

_He doesn’t cry; the moment the urge settles, he pushes short nails on the pale skin of his thighs, gulping it down as thin droplets of blood cry for him._

_Suho’s mask is stitched onto his face._

_He’s the leader. Not anyone else, not anything more._

 

 

*****

 

 

The only thing Joonmyun wants right now is to have a shower, so he can fall on his bed and hopefully, sleep. Every step he gives hurts and his stomach keeps flipping, desperately crying out for something beyond water, vitamin pills – he doubled his intake, so he will actually have some muscle, instead of fat hanging out of his thighs and torso – and crackers.

Having schedules by himself is beneficial, as he learned on the past months; it means he’ll not have the opportunity to annoy the boys with his presence or maintain Suho’s mask 24/7, his breaks spent alone, letting the little he feels consume his thoughts – helplessness: talentless, useless, annoying little excuse of a leader, why does he  keeps trying? Doesn’t he see that’s pathetic, that without him EXO would be an infinitely better band? Hopelessness: why can’t he do better, why people doesn’t like him? Self-loathing: he should just **disappear** – and lead him into the waiting waves, there in the horizon, singing his name.

Before Joonmyun enters the dorm, he hears it: Chanyeol’s growls, rough voice booming past the door and Sehun’s own deep voice, muffled tone dripping with sarcasm and sassiness. They’re obviously having an argument, and it’s a leader’s duty – Suho’s duty – to intervene and try to reconcile the angry parts; Joonmyun opens the door as Suho, smile in place and indulgent eyes and as predicted, the maknae and the rapper are indeed fighting, EXO’s other members watching with identical expressions of worry.

At one point Minseok – he’s much more suited to the leader position, the oldest, calm and rational – tries to speak, but Sehun, ignoring all hierarchy, yells at him to fuck off; Suho has had enough. He positions his small body between the two tallest, attempting to placate them with his leader voice. Chanyeol immediately quiets down, but not for long; the maknae smirks and provokes him, mocking his obedient, puppy-like attitude. Suho turns his attention to him, scolding the youngest for acting so childishly and behind him, the rapper resumes his part in the fight; Suho turns again, this time to address him. Their deep voices hurt Joonmyun’s ears, but Suho is deaf to their complaining, reasoning that no matter what’s the issue, they won’t resolve it by screaming on each other’s faces.

Sehun reaches his limit first, and shoves Suho away, disrespectfully adding “I don’t need to be told what to do by a useless leader like you”

Suho eyes narrow – Joonmyun’s haggard heart breaks a little more, misses a beat a little longer – at the defiance, but he doesn’t say anything; the mask can’t sustain itself as its owner feels the words’ impact like a punch in the guts. Joonmyun’s shoulders slump, eyes empty when he stares Sehun. The maknae seems to perceive the effect his words caused, and opens his mouth to say something, anything. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

“Of course” Joonmyun says slowly, each word low, slurred “But it’s late and we have an schedule tomorrow morning– Let’s sleep”

He walks towards his room, absentmindedly dodging Minseok’s hand – meant to be put on his shoulder – and ignoring Baekhyun’s calls, Jongdae’s questions and Kyungsoo’s whispered scolding – he hears Chanyeol’s and Sehun’s names, so it’s not for him – just like Yixing’s – he’s back, recovering from an injury – deep sigh and Jongin’s curses.

Not bothering to take his wanted shower, Joonmyun goes straight to bed, lying on top of the covers, hugging his knees in an attempt to fade.

 

 

*****

 

 

_He reads about his symptoms on the internet; everything indicates he’s suffering from depression and a mix of anorexia and bulimia nervosa. He ignores the tips to help himself and the several numbers of call centers specialized in dealing with suicidal people. Joonmyun doesn’t really feel like killing himself, but he also doesn’t put the effort to continue living._

_He’s too tired to deal with his own problems, already full of eight people’s and an entire company’s, who wants more than he can permit from the band: more promotions, more CFs, photoshoots and dramas and variety shows. He says no to a lot of them, sacrificing his image on SM so they leave EXO in peace to focus on him, judgmental stares following him no matter where he goes, whispers of contract revisions and eight members boy-bands clogging his ears._

_Joonmyun vomits blood for the first time in the beginning of Glory Day’s filming. He watches the vivid color turn pink as he opens the faucet, the water – his superpower, his nemesis; engulfing him with its waves the longer he struggles – washing it away, disappearing with all evidences of the wrongness his body shamefully carries._

_It’s a pity, really. That red had been the most beautiful thing Joonmyun had seen in a long time; vibrant, bright and strong. Red is fire, love, anger, courage, passion, it is feeling in its purest form, everything he’s not. He fixes his gaze on the clear sink’s material, not seeing it; instead, he thinks about the water which washed his blood away, suddenly feeling hate consuming his body. Every single cell rumbles with such a sudden, powerful emotion and he bares his teeth, closing his hands into fits; he doesn’t take his eyes away from the transparent liquid, calmly mocking him. Another flood of bile and blood takes him by surprise, and yet he doesn’t close his eyes, morbidly satisfied in staining the sink, part of the mirror and the white tiles red._

_He turns his back to it, heading towards the door._

_Joonmyun leaves the place dirty with his blood._

_His nails cut the tender skin of his palm._

_Suho smiles – strange, uncomfortable muscles being pulled so Joonmyun’s ugly, giant teeth are exposed – and greets everyone he crosses path with._

 

 

 

*****

 

 

On Valentine’s Day, Joonmyun drowns.

After being invited by some of his friends – are they really friends? Or like the others they hang out with him for money? Out of pity? – on the 13th, he books a room on the hotel which they spend their evening on, mind slightly hazy from the one glass of soju; he used to handle his alcohol better, but after mistreating his body for so long, starving it, binging it to throw up later, working out until his legs gave up, practicing for hours under the resentful eyes of EXO’s members, for he commits too many mistakes, can’t pick the choreography as fast as them.

Minho, Kyuhyun and Kwanghee had noticed that something was – is – wrong with him, and during most of the night, had doted on him; Minho casually draping an arm around his shoulders, Kyuhyun not using his sassiness like usual, instead focusing on making him speak, and Kwanghee, silly as he is, did the possible and impossible to make him crack a smile. It felt good to be Joonmyun and not Suho in public, a feat which had not happened for the past year. Soothed a small part of his broken heart, even if the affection was false.

They say goodbye before midnight. Minho has a show to film, Kyuhyun will meet this girl he’s been seeing for a few months and Kwanghee, according to himself, will wail his single stats into the first person he sees’ ears. He’s grateful that they all have plans and have to leave early; he doesn’t think he can bear their eyes on him for much longer or if his body can handle a few more hours, exhausted to a point he’s never felt before. Moving is always a challenge, but today is torture.

Using his credit card – the damned thing, basically molding him to an image of an daddy’s spender who offers money in exchange of respect and affection – Joonmyun pays for the night, and climbs twelve floors of stairs – he can’t let the alcohol settle down, alcohol is bad, it blotches his face and makes him uglier –, mocking the number mentally. How idiotic of him, to try to connect with EXO in the most simplistic, nonsensical things. His room is painted in soft blue, mattress covered in white silk; there’s a large bathtub on the bathroom, and it immediately attracts Joonmyun’s attention.  His bones are being eaten away by some parasite, and his whole self trembles as he discards his clothes, refusing to look down and contemplate the mess he is. He knows exactly what he’ll find: ashen skin, dozens of half-moons scars, a stomach that forces itself forward. It’s disgusting.

Joonmyun is disgusted by himself.

He’s only wearing boxers when he remembers the recently bought pills; sleeping pills, because he haven’t slept for three days straight and he’s starting to jeopardize the band with his constant errors and he’s Suho, the guardian. This kind of comportment is unacceptable, so he bought the most expensive ones, to obtain results. As he looks at them, he considers the fatigue that sweeps over his body, and after a minute of consideration, gulps down four, coughing heavily when one gets stuck on his throat. Joonmyun goes to the bathroom and opens the bathtub tap, waiting as the water – hateful, clear water – fills it before entering. He never surpassed this aversion he feels for water, bitterness making him frown; water is transparent and clear, the best example for pureness. He’s supposed to be like it, but he’s soiled.

It’s so cold his skin itches and burns, and for some reason Joonmyun welcomes the surge of sensations which invade his numb self. He snuggles onto a good position, and closes his eyes. Like always, his mind wanders.

Joonmyun thinks about Yifan, strangely enough, without having a full blown panic attack. He thinks about the older male and his dorky personality, poorly hidden beneath a cool façade; his big hands lightly touching his lower back every time they won a prize, silently supporting him and his typical ‘(not) my style’ phrase; how he took care of Zitao like an older brother and let Baekhyun fawn over him without blinking when in reality his amusement was clear in the lines of his giant body; his red lips whispering words in Chinese as he slowly made Joonmyun squirm in pleasure, breathless and flushed, his low growls in the throes of passion and his tenderness while holding Joonmyun close to his body. Yifan is like love for Joonmyun, because to Joonmyun, love is pain.

He thinks about Sehun, and how the maknae for a long time was his priority in life; how to make him improve, how support him without being too annoying, how to make him break that bored barrier? With huge rare smiles and colorful hair, the maknae is made of sassiness and monotony, manipulating those near him so they’re wrapped around his little finger; he’s the boy who nurtures still an crush/admiration/resentment towards Luhan, pranks people with a straight face and binges bubble-tea like it’s a God’s send to this Earth. Joonmyun is sure that if not for Yifan, he would have fallen in love with the youngest. Sehun reminds Joonmyun of one of those cliché dramas, the secondary character that steals the scene without having to try, more loved than the mains; he’s a hurricane, like his superpower, and he’s an expert in breaking down Joonmyun.

His head feels lighter, the pills finally making their effect; Joonmyun leans more heavily on the tub, an easy smile pushing his lips upwards. He can’t feel his legs, and without the pain, everything it’s fuzzy.

Joonmyun thinks about his – without the pain, the fuzziness confounds his mind, blurs the past with the present – other boys; Kyungsoo warm hands, heart-shaped smile, great cooking skills, and soothing, small voice in the middle of the night; Baekhyun’s rectangular smile, witty remarks despite his cute face, too much eyeliner and out of nowhere hugs; Chanyeol’s deep voice, incompatible with his bright, puppy-like attitude and playfulness, mood capable to lit an entire room. He thinks about Jongin’s push and pull behavior, his long stares through lazy eyes, graciousness and natural seductiveness.

Joonmyun thinks about Minseok’s calm persona, his perfect mix of cuteness and sexiness, the silent hand on his shoulder, supporting; Luhan’s attempts to be manly when he is the cutest, his charisma and how he crushed hard on him in the very beginning, his wise advices; Jongdae and his cat-lips, sharp tongue and never ending pranks, his thin but strong arms circling his torso from behind and soft words of encouragement; Yixing’s pale fingers playing the guitar, dimpled smile and unicorn-like, always trying to heal their wounds, be physical or emotional. He thinks about Zitao and his feline eyes, diva attitude and clinginess, his smile and tenderness, his whining and the way he relied his whole self on Joonmyun.

His eyes are dropping and the sleepy haze is so pleasant.

Joonmyun closes his eyes, falling asleep right away.

His body slides down, submerging his head.

Bubbles escape his mouth and nose, but he doesn’t wake.

The time on his cell phone shines with an incoming call from Sehun, the time showing on the clear screen.

One minute past midnight.

The bubbles stop.

On Valentine’s Day, Joonmyun _drowns_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day, a room-maid comes to clean the room. She finds Joonmyun’s body, curled inside the bathtub, blue from the water.

She screams.

In half an hour, there are three vans from SM Entertainment outside the hotel. Lee Soo Man himself is there; he stares at the body being carefully removed with a blank expression, but with eyes full of what can be considered regret.

Two of EXO managers are also there, and while both cry, one has calls to make. He starts with Joonmyun’s parents. He spends forty minutes in a mix of talking and sobbing with the lea– ex-leader’s father, after his mom passed out at the notice.

Forty minutes and he sorrowfully thinks who in EXO will have to carry the news to the others.

He sighs and calls the number.

 

 

 

 

 

On EXO’s dorm, Minseok’s phone rings.

He answers.

In two minutes, the world comes crashing down on him.

 

 

 

 

 

Minseok repeats the words to the rest of the members, all reunited for breakfast; Kyungsoo scalds his hands on the pan he holds, Jongin looks at him like he’s gone crazy, Baekhyun starts to laugh hysterically, being accompanied by Chanyeol, both thinking it is a joke – they see everyone breaking down around them and Minseok’s tears, and Minseok doesn’t cry – before shutting up completely, tears polling in their eyes. Yixing curls around himself, Jongdae falls to the floor. Sehun stares blankly at his breakfast, monotone eyes hazed.

The room falls completely silent.

 

 

 

 

Luhan is the first one out of the ex-EXO members that finds out, on the night of the same day.

He doesn’t really finds out; he’s getting acquainted with a bottle of rice wine – still mourning the end of his relationship with Minseok, even after so long – on his apartment the moment his phone rings. He picks it with no intention of answering depending on the number and actually chokes on his drink as he sees the picture of the person – chubby cheeks full of food, like a squirrel and crinkled eyes – he misses the most. On his hurry to answer he drops his glass, spilling the liquid on his pants.

His voice trembles as he murmurs the foreign ‘annyeonghaseyo’. Luhan frowns deeply when he hears Minseok’s weeping and small voice; his deer eyes widen as he listens to the notice.

His stomach twists, and he only has time to turn to his side before throwing up all the alcohol he consumed and his dinner. Tears burn his eyes, like the vomit burns his throat.

 

 

 

 

 

Zitao is next, a few hours later. He’s sleeping when Luhan calls him, so he doesn’t answer the first, the second or the tenth time, his phone set to vibrate; he wakes up when the house’s phone rings. Not one to receive calls so late – or early, depending on the point of view – he stumbles his way to the annoying thing, using a pretty colorful vocabulary when he picks it up, not bothering to look who’s calling.

Luhan’s voice is rough, as if he’s been screaming for hours, and it fails a dozens of times, sobbing and jumbling words, before he can deliver the news.

Zitao feels his head spin as droplets fall from his eyes unconsciously. Black dots obscure his vision.

A _thud_ is heard as he passes out, in shock, Luhan’s rough voice screeching on the other side of the line.

 

 

 

 

 

Yifan is the last of the ex-EXO members to receive the news, and it’s because of Luhan or Zitao.

He’s eating lunch in the front of the television, enjoying a day off; the movie is boring and predictable, so with a grunt, he changes channels, settling on the news. A pretty woman wearing blue speaks softly, eyes slightly cast down.

_“.. Kim Joonmyun’s, also known as Suho, leader of the popular boy-band EXO body was found yesterday on **** Hotel, drowned on the bathroom’s tub. Witnesses affirm that he was out with friends a few hours earlier, on the thirteenth, and the body was found on the morning of the fourteenth, Valentine’s Day. Together with him were found sleeping pills, so the legists are considering suici–…”_

He stops hearing, he stops seeing, and he stops feeling. The plate on his lap shatters on the ground, food staining the floor, but he doesn’t hear the sharp sound of glass against marble.

His mind can’t register the woman’s words as true, they can’t be, there has to be a mistake.

Joonmyun?  Joonmyunnie?

Joonmyun of too big smiles, half-moon eyes and tiny body? Caring, bright, determinate, hard-working and patient Joonmyun?

 _His_ Joonmyun.

No, that can’t be.

No, he won’t accept this, he won’t.

No. _No_. _**No!**_

Glass shatters on the wall as he throws a glass on it.

Other objects follow suit.

Yifan collapses on a trashed apartment, wailing like a child.

 

 

 

 

 

He picks the first flight to Korea he finds, and almost three hours later, lands on Korean soil, hood over his disheveled hair, sunglasses hiding red eyes and mask covering his blotched face. He checks in in the first hotel he sees, falling on the bed to cry for a little longer. Ugly sobs rack his entire body, his ruined voice echoing in the silent space like a dying animal’s pledge to live.

Joonmyun’s fu–… _funeral_ is on the morning, accordingly to his manager; the man unwillingly called SM Entertainment and they didn’t hesitate to say the address and time, the entire company falling apart with accusations of mistreatment and neglect and oppression. Yifan’s body is heavy, and he doesn’t care how he’ll appear the next day, how he’s going to face eleven faces he left almost years ago. All he can think about revolves around Joonmyun’s figure, the beautiful, stupid – so stupid, _whywouldkillhimselfwhywhywouldhegiveuponlifewhywhywhy –_ leader he’d loved, still loves so much.

Yifan deserves to suffer, deserves to kneel on rice and let it rip his knees bloody, because he left, left Joonmyun alone without any explication. Couldn’t say that he felt like a trapped animal, cornered under the flashlights; scared of the dimension of his feelings who kept growing despite his efforts to contain it, bury it under the lust and the need to unwind. Yifan simply left one day, throwing all his responsibilities on top of Joonmyun’s shoulders, already curved with the weight of his own, the band’s and the company’s.

Naturally, he doesn’t sleep.

The morning after he goes to the funeral.

 

 

 

 

First of all, there are screams. Wails, ugly and rough, silent and long.

Secondly, there are so many people the place can’t fit them all; Joonmyun’s smiling picture hangs on the wall, surrounded by flowers of all colors and sizes.

Lastly, not a single person wears black. They’re all wearing white.

Joonmyun is… _was_ – fuck, this sound so wrong, a catastrophe on the world’s equilibrium – like water, bright and pure, tainted by the world, but he must be remembered as that person who worked harder than everyone, that tried to support all problems on his small frame, who tried to be the guardian and gave away his heart – his blood, tears, years, his everything – to eleven boys. The white is to honor his memory, as wrong as it sounds, because _Joonmyun is dead._

His mother has to be held by his father and brother, her sobs loud and desperate as she begs the heavens to bring her boy back, he’s so young and...

The two men holding her cry silently, the small family curling around themselves and isolating the world around them, etiquette and hierarchy forgotten; nothing matters but the fact that their youngest is inside a box, lifeless.

EXO is there too, of course they are, all eleven of them. Ironic, how it took their guardian’s dead to bring them all together once again, all resentment put aside to mourn, sadness, regret and heartbreak joining them, tightly intertwining them in each other, a bigger and louder version of the first family; they’re one too, and have just lost their guide, their guardian, the leader whose words soothed their worries and whose arms comforted them too many times to count.

The small body of Kyungsoo has to hold Jongdae’s and Baekhyun's, both boys bawling loudly, tucked on the crook of his neck, soaking the white shirt, like motherless newborns. In a way, they are, Joonmyun being the maternal figure most of the time, overly worrying about their pranks and careless behavior, scolding in a low voice when they got hurt or worked too hard, forgetting to eat; he’s not in this world anymore, and won’t smile fondly at them despite his fatigue. The trio youngest cries soundlessly, fat droplets wetting Baekhyun’s mess of a hair as his mind forces himself to accept his new reality, his heart refusing and fighting it, breaking in tiny pieces in the process, no Joonmyun silly joke to lift the dark cloud set on top of his head.

Chanyeol’s eyes are empty as he stares into the nothingness, his own tears falling on the floor in a constant flood, clothes winkled – Joonmyun would do his best to smooth it with his small hands – hair pointing to all directions – Joonmyun would fix it for him, on his tiptoes to reach the strands – and face swollen from crying too much – Joonmyun would caress his cheeks, softly telling him to not cry, because he’s Park Chanyeol the Happy Virus and he’s beautiful when he’s smiling. In similar position, Minseok stares the nothing, big eyes dropped and wet, but not crying like the others; he’s already cried to the point his eyes dried out, guilt consuming his body as he thinks the times he should have supported the heavy weight of EXO with Joonmyun. Luhan’s arms are around him protectively, but he has the impression the younger boy is in fact taking his presence as the anchor he needs, if the sniffles on his ears and the repetitive apologies and pleadings for forgiveness say something.

Yixing sobs quietly, fitting between two walls, as if trying to disappear, his knees drawn to his chest snugly, hands clutching his arms as he trembles violently, mouth whispering words in a language no one knows, an incomprehensive mix of Chinese and Korean. Some of the people there look at him worriedly, preoccupied with the possibility of a panic attack. Jongin is one of the loudest, screaming profanities and broken promises to the smiling picture of Joonmyun, his hands desperately pushing his hair in an attempt to tear it from his head, his lip bleeding profusely thanks to the force which he bit it, normally lazy eyes wide and so dark he seems to not have slept for weeks. Zitao is also loud, his wails high-pitched and heard above all the other sounds; he’s bent in half on the floor, hands covering his head and forehead pressed on the floor, tears and snot dribbling down his face as he cries and cries and begs Joonmyun- Mama to come back, because _he’ssorryforleavingandsadandcryingandJoonmyunshouldcomforthimandnotlaylifelessinsideawoodenbox._

Sehun is on his knees, like Zitao’s, his cries reach everyone inside and outside the room; he’s screaming, hitting the floor with his fists, both scrapped and bloody from the force he uses. Out of all sounds, his is the one affect people the most; one would think he’s being tortured, having his heart ripped out of his chest. He’s like joining the others together; he pushes his hair roughly like Jongin, wails like Zitao and cries like Baekhyun and Jongdae; trembles like Yixing and has moments of complete blankness like Minseok and Chanyeol, staring at Joonmyun’s picture like the boy will suddenly get out of the portrait, alive and grinning openly, only to realize he’ll not and start to scream again. There are incoherent, _I’msorrysandpleasecomebackhyungIneedyouplease._

Yifan is the only one standing, the only one who has the courage to look inside the wooden box and directly into Joonmyun’s pale, so pale – he was always fair, but now he’s ugly, sickly pale, _deadly_ pale – body, especially considering the white of the clothes he’s dressed on. Yifan’s wrecked, a shallow person with no light in his eyes, a dead someone who still moves. He wants to break down the place, throw the flowers away, because none of them will ever be worthy of Joonmyun, this world’s – and all others, into the galaxies – most beautiful being, pick the remaining EXO members and beat them down, accuse them of not taking proper care of the boy who gave everything to them – he knows he’s being an hypocrite to think like this, him, the first to leave – including his life. He moves one trembling hand to touch the immaculate skin, but hesitates and lowers it. He doesn’t have the right to sully his pureness. Sully the love of his life with his mundane hands. Finally, he falls to his knees, sobbing into those hands, an apology and a confession on the tip of his tongue.

One word hangs heavy above their heads, but no one acknowledge it.

Suicide.

No one will ever accept that bright leader Joonmyun purposely took one too many sleeping pills to drown himself on a bathtub in a hotel, during Valentine’s Day. No, this they can’t do. Not without losing the thin thread of sanity that keeps them grounded to this world.

Joonmyun excited smile on the picture seems to mock them, eyes crinkling into half-moons.

Joonmyun’s waves come and crash, wiping them away and drowning them in a sea of pain, despair, guilt and regret.

 

 

 

 

_We’re one! EXO, let’s love!_

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
